


Balancing On One Wounded Wing

by sonicsora



Category: Brütal Legend
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Decisions, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Marriage, Ophelia is a Zaulia, Post-Break Up, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-06-08 07:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15238542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: After being exiled from Ironheade, Ophelia has found a home with the Zaulia. She's found her people, her purpose, and a new love in the Queen of the Zaulia, Rima. This new peace had granted Ophelia time to grow and heal over old wounds. She's found a life she can enjoy. A life of freedom.But, her past has yet to finish with her, as Ironheade show up one day in Zaulia territory asking for help in their war against demonkind.The real question is if the Zaulia decide to help Ironheade or not.





	1. You will take the challenge, we go about our war

**Author's Note:**

> Wowie another AU. Hope you're ready for some wild shit. I had this idea knocking around my noggin for AGES. I finally had to flesh it out and feed it to the internet.

Ophelia felt like she had turned to stone whilst she stood there. The mere sight of Eddie Riggs left her undone in a way she hated. It had been so long, but not long enough- there was still a sting in her heart when she looked at him. Anger had turned into sadness. 

Her hand tightened around the hilt of her blade as she looked to her Zaulia Sisters. The other woman tightened the circle around Eddie and Lita. Wordlessly crowding the pair of Ironheade warriors from going anywhere. The jostling and spears pointed in their direction did enough to unsettle the two. 

“H-hey now. We’re just here to talk to the queen.” Eddie started with an almost nervous laugh. “We come askin’ for aid.” 

Ophelia couldn’t stop her hands from shaking, she swallowed and avoided his eye, motioning wordlessly for another Zaulia to take her place. “I’ll speak to the queen.” She barked out, voice rough. Her voice is jagged enough neither Eddie or Lita took notice of her it seemed. The heavy face paint, leather armor, and shorter hair did wonders to change who she was. 

“Thank gods, we aren’t going to die.” Lita’s voice carries even as Ophelia flees. 

Ophelia swallowed thickly, making her way through the underbrush and greenery to find Rima. Unaware of the fact she was crying until she felt her tears splash against the bare skin of her chest. She couldn’t help it now, nor could she stop it by the time she arrived deep within the heart of camp. The heart where Rima’s chieftain tent lay, flaps open, metal kittens meandering in and out at their own pace. Ophelia lets her hand drop to stroke over one kitten as she steps forward inside. Rima for once is seated, a lapful of kitten, other Zaulia women talking amongst themselves. They looked up at Ophelia’s arrival. The woman stood at attention across from the leader of the Zaulia. 

“Rima- we have intruders.” She called out, trying to ignore the varying concerned stares amongst her peers. The clear worry on Rima’s face felt like a knife to Ophelia’s heart. 

“Beloved-“ Ophelia shook her head, signaling they would talk later. That much was enough to make Rima’s expression harden. The Queen was present now, not Rima. Ophelia was glad of that much. It gave her a respite from the storm brewing inside of her 

“Intruders?” 

“Outsiders, they tried to take our beasts, they wish to speak with you.” 

Rima narrowed her eyes, “The same outsiders you came from?”

“Yes.” 

The queen exhaled slowly, “I’ll speak with them, if they displease me I’ll kill them.” Rima carefully hands the metal beast kitten to another woman before she rises from her throne. Her spear is handed to her by another Zaulia warrior. 

A question lays on Ophelia’s lips but is answered for her before she can speak it. Rima can read her with such ease now. You need not come.” Rima’s hand is a comfortable weight that settles on Ophelia’s shoulder. “I need you here.” 

Ophelia swallows, nodding. This isn’t a retreat, this isn’t a surrender. This is fortification. Once Rima sees her nod of assent, the chieftain speaks once more. “You are to inform the others, blow the whistle if need be to summon any nearby patrols.” 

“Yes.” 

Rima removes her hand after a moment, having let it linger. She snaps her fingers and two Zaulia move to join her, walking with the ruler of their tribe out of the tent into the stifling humid air of the afternoon. Ophelia strides over to the throne, holding her head high. She claps her hands for attention, drawing any unaware of the situation to her. 

Her eyes are shining with tears, but she speaks proudly. 

She is Zaulia now. Tears do not stifle her duty. Grief cannot consume her. 

\----

The chieftain tent has been expanded for a meeting, more women have crowded within to await their ruler’s word. There are a few straggling children here or there, but no infants. Children run around the tent playing easy yet quiet games. Some idle conversation carries between various warriors but rarely gets all that loud. The Zaulia are a quiet kind, use to prowling the jungle in utter silence to strike at their prey. Ophelia has to admire that about them, after living so long in noise, she finds comfort in companionable silence.

Ophelia sits at the chieftain’s throne, awaiting Rima’s next order. 

Rima returns, after what feels like an eternity. Ophelia almost sags in relief at the sight of the other woman. Rima bangs the end of her spear against the ground for attention. That much makes Ophelia raise from her seat. 

“The intruders have been sent away.” She announces primly, gaze sweeping over the gathering of women present.

“But,” Ophelia feels her heart sink, dreading the addition. “I have promised I will speak with them away from our camps and beasts. We will consider their suggestions.” 

Silence is heavy for a moment before women’s voices break in. Ophelia finds it hard to track who is saying what in the cluster of women gathered. “Truly, we’re to speak to these intruders?” “Why give them any of our time?” “We have hunts to prepare for!” 

Rima holds a hand up, which immediately silences the group. “I said consider, I did not promise anything beyond that. Settle.” She taps the end of her spear on the floor again. “I will need fine warriors with me tomorrow, to be my senses.” 

Her gaze sweeps the group of Zaulia warriors. “Zana.” Rima points at a woman with dark loose tumbling hair and equally dark eyes, her face paint makes her eyes seem akin to a predator on prowl. She rests a hand gently against the top of her daughter’s head before standing at full attention. “You are my ears.”

Rima looks out to the crowd again, eyes settling on the next woman. “Aamani.” Rima picks out a dark-skinned woman with light colored hair braided tightly against her skull. Decorative ornaments poke from the neatly done braids, colorful and odd against the limited color palette of the group. Her eyes are bright, a contrast against the night that made up her skin. “My eyes.” The woman bows her head respectfully back. 

Within the crowd, she picks another, "Brauma.” A waif of a woman, the oddity amongst the warriors gathered. One considered far too weak to battle, only to be learned she moved swiftly as a river during a storm. Just as tumultuous and ready to drag those who underestimated her under. “My touch.” 

Her gaze finally settles on Ophelia. “My heart.” The brunette felt herself nod, standing tall as well. She can feel the other's eyes on her but never looks away from Rima.

“You all shall come back with me by the morrow, we meet near the bridge.” She looks again, expression stern and chiefly. “This meeting is dismissed, go back to what you were doing.”

At her words the uncertain silence broke, women began talking and Ophelia found herself drifting to Rima. Her hand found its home in hers. Their fingers intertwine as the two leave the tent together. The scent of campfires left burning hangs heavily in the air as the two move together. 

\----

Rima playing with her knife was far from new. It was a habit Ophelia had grown very used to over the past six months. It was a motion of thought, far from nervous as much as it is practiced. 

Even with all of them, Ophelia still found herself worrying. Maybe a little. “You’re going to cut yourself at this rate.” Ophelia stated gently, reaching out to place a hand against Rima’s shoulder. Ophelia’s touch made the Zaulia Queen slowly unwind. The tension built up in her shoulders easing now. In the privacy of their home, their tent they can enjoy some privacy. 

“I’ve yet to cut myself on my own blade. Not since I was a girl.” 

“There is a first for everything, Rima.” The brunette leaned in to rest her chin on her lover’s bare shoulder. “I’m sorry.” In the privacy of their tent, they were stripped down from the usual armor to bare skin and loose tunics. 

“Sorry-?” Rima glanced over at Ophelia the best she could, given their position. “What for?” 

“I brought this trouble with me. If I… just walked past your encampment you wouldn’t be-“

Rima growled at that, tossing her knife aside to turn around and yank Ophelia fully into her. “Silence. I am not going to hear a dark word against you. Not even from you.” 

Ophelia sat up, attempting to protest further. “Rima-“ 

“No.” The Zaulia queen silenced Ophelia with a kiss. The lithe warrior melted into the kiss more than readily, holding onto Rima gently. When Rima broke away she gave Ophelia a stern look. “You are a Zaulia now. Your past has its problems, its old broken ties, but you are mine. This… Ironheade can wait until I make a decision. They will get help when I deem it.” Ironheade’s arrival to the jungle had been a day that rocked Ophelia’s comfortable world senseless. Even worse was the fact none of them recognized her under her given paints. 

“They’ll accuse me of being a demon.” 

The eyebrow-less woman snorted, taking a moment to look over Ophelia teasingly. “I’ve examined you personally, I know for a grand fact you are not one.” 

Ophelia huffed a little, turning red. “Hey!” Rima laughed lowly, leaning in to kiss Ophelia silent again. 

Her journey into joining the Zaulia had been one fraught with oddities. The culture was something Ophelia was still trying to understand even now. The strangest oddity lay in the loyalty these women had with her. 

She had proven herself, she was with the Queen. It would take more than Ironheade to uproot her. 

\---

Seeing the bridge again after months of avoiding it feels like a shock to her system. Even worse is the tour bus parked across the way. People meander around it, a campfire has been built, women are practicing their aim on targets Ophelia remembered building for them.

Ophelia hates the nostalgic sting that comes with seeing it, all of it- with picturing Mangus behind the wheel. The nostalgic sting of her days spent building target practices, patching practice dummies, and drinking with these people. 

Rima’s hand on her bare shoulder does enough to bring Ophelia back into the moment. She can breath smoothly once again, tension loosening in her shoulders.

“My heart, focus.” Her words are soft, without reproach. Any other warrior would be cut to ribbons for losing her focus. Ophelia feels guilt but tries to ignore it building behind her ribs. “Be steady, be silent, be ready.” 

Ophelia swallows, nodding but steels herself. She focuses on the sharp edge of her spear, the way the light glitters as it meets the metal. She is as sharp, as deadly, as cold as needed. She and the spear are an unstoppable force.

Eddie Riggs cannot hurt her again. She won’t allow it. Nor would Rima. Rima’s hand stays against her skin until they emerge from the underbrush. The Zaulia chosen form a protective flank behind their queen. Practice, practice, practice, practice- its what keeps them together around Rima.

Eddie and Lita stand in the middle of the bridge waiting for them. It just adds another tragedy to this bridge. 

“You wished to speak to us?” Rima questions, voice oddly loud in comparison to her usual tone. Ophelia keeps her expression carefully blank as she keeps to Rima’s right. The two Ironheade leaders seem to startle before turning to face the Zaulia. 

“Yes.” Eddie is all smiles, bright, buoyant, Ophelia wants to rip it off of his face. Some angry bitter part of herself wants to make him cry the way he made her cry. That part doesn’t surface, it lays dormant as Eddie continues. “We’re the human rebellion, we’ve been fighting the demons, freeing humanity. A pretty big deal.” 

Rima just stares at him impassively, lips pressed into a thin line. A wordless suggestion to continue before she grew bored. 

Lita sighed, rolling her eyes. “We need your help.” Eddie starts to protest until she shoves her hand against his face. Palm covering his nose and mouth as he glowers at her. “Demons have taken over the lands we once called home. We had to flee from an ambush they sprung on us months ago. We’ve been fighting but, but haven’t beaten them back.” 

“I see.” Rima tilts her head. “And why, if I may ask, should we help you?” 

Eddie smacks Lita’s hand off of his mouth, “Uhhhh, cause we’re freein’ humanity!? Pretty sure you’re a part of that. Least last time I checked.” His gaze swept over the women, not even lingering on Ophelia in the least. The brunette is more relieved than anything else. 

“We are Zaulia. We are our own people. We broke away from the last rebellion because they succumbed to the sea. How do I know the same will not happen to you and your lot?” 

“The sea has to be sealed still.” Lita cut in, shooting Eddie a warning look, resting a hand against his arm. The touch lingers, gentle and bolstering. Almost similar to how Rima- Ophelia managed to suppress a wary frown. She needs to listen, not let herself wonder about what Ironheade has been doing without her. Lita hesitates before continuing, lips pulled tight. “Only- only a demonic emperor can open it.” 

“So if we cut off his head, he never opens it again. Easy, peasy.” The cockiness from Eddie turns Ophelia's stomach. She had loved him once, so deeply so uniquely, now she wasn't sure who she was seeing before her. 

Rima stared at him, “Do you have any actual plans or simply speculation? I will not join a cause, much less a one doomed to fail such as yours without a plan.” 

Eddie’s expression pinched at that, frustration is sharp, brittled there. Its a rush of emotions battling to win on his face that feels strange on him. It takes Ophelia aback in a way she hadn’t expected. “Don’t you have _any_ fuckin’ compassion-“ A hand slaps against his mouth, Lita looking cross. Her patience is thin for Eddie apparently, she shoots him another stern look. “We’ve got a plan.” She cuts in quickly, “We plan on beating the demons out of this continent, we discover where their fortress is and kill our way to it. The emperor cannot hide from humanity as a whole once we're at his gates.”

“A mission to end your lives. I see.” Rima’s tone isn’t impressed. She taps her fingers against the staff of her spear. “ _You two_ freed people?” There is some disbelief in her tone. The subtle edge of judgment like the blunt side of a blade digging into your back, knocking the air out of you. Like a bruise blossoming in the worst place it can against a joint.

“There- there were four of us.” Eddie his voice comes out shockingly small, weaker now. All the cockiness and smugness dropping in an instant. It is almost like cold water has been poured over him. “Four leaders for this rebellion, but, we lost two of them.” He laughs almost bitterly now. "War kinda- has its price. It's... why we need your help. This is the most genuine he's been. "We can't do this alone anymore. Ironheade needs more allies, needs more chances to protect everyone we can. Divided we're doomed. Together we can do somethin'."

Rima briefly at best steals a glance at Ophelia, but it is barely a flicker, barely something the two leaders of Ironheade notice. Lita has focused on resting a hand against Eddie’s arm again, offering a wordless comfort. The roadie offers her a slim smile. Ophelia can see the fissures forming, breaking him apart. 

Ophelia’s grasp tightens around the staff of her spear, dark eyes drifting to the other women, other Zaulia. They are all impassive as Rima is. Stone statues against the grief displayed before them. 

“We shall discuss your offer.” Rima states, closing the meeting as quickly as it starts. She eyes the two, both surprised it wasn’t a flat refusal. “Make a more structured plan. We shall meet again when the sun is high and the birds cry for blood.” 

“ _Blood_?-“ Eddie barely starts to ask the question before the Zaulia leave in a tight unit at Rima’s hand motion. The women follow wordlessly, a shadow to the Zaulia queen as they disappear into the jungles. Ophelia can hear the talk of Ironeheade growing faint, distant as they walk deeper and deeper. Ophelia finds herself straining to pick up on the last snatches of words. The last of Ironheade for now. 

Only the feeling of a cool breeze against her bare body pulls her back to now. 

In the darkness of the brush far away from prying ears, Rima comes to a stop turning to face the women with her. The women following her came to a stop as well but keep a protective formation around their queen. “Now, we speak.”


	2. Through the pieces that fell and rose from the depth

_The thrashing of water against rock, sounds of bird calls and the murmur of nature itself felt like a heavy cloak dragging the brunette down. The toe of her sneakers scuff against the rough concrete edges of the bridge._

_The skin of her hands are raw and bloodied from scrambling up onto the ledge of the bridge. The dull throb of pain barely registers anymore at this point. Ophelia just finds her mind focused on the plunge._

_Ophelia knows she’s shaking, be it from the wind or her own fear- she’s not sure which is the deciding factor. It doesn’t really matter anymore._

_Ophelia stares down at the dark waters, it isn’t the sea, but the woman feels like she can’t walk another step. She just has to leap, she has to go. It can all end so easily._

_She was too weak to even make it to the sea of black tears itself. She laughs bitterly to herself as tears run down her cheeks._

_Everything is heavy, so heavy, dragging her further down. She feels like she can’t even breath anymore._

_“Step back.” The commanding voice startles Ophelia, the brunette looks over her shoulder in bleary confusion. A fabled Zaulia warrior stands behind her, grim-faced and serious even with the layers of paint covering her features. “You need not consider that option.”_

\--- 

There were mute nods of understanding at the command. Each woman had played their part in observing the meeting. Rima’s gaze drifts between the women gathered alighting upon Zana.

“My Ears.” 

“There were no outright lies spoken.” Zana’s voice is crisp, well articulated as she held the queen’s gaze. “There was untruths spoken under their natural tones about their plans. Misdirections attempted to try and gain your approval. Neither are outright lying to us, but have no concept of what we want to hear as warriors. 

A trust, as well as tension, lies between the two leaders. A familiarity bred of time together. I could hear fondness in how they spoke one another’s names. The man was cocky, impulsive, on the edge of something. The woman was frustrated by his responses and trying to win favor. Honeyed words with the intent of making promises likely unable to be kept.” 

Rima nods slowly, her gaze turning to the next woman, “My eyes.” 

Aamani spoke with no real preamble, calm and to the point. “Their body language was tense, anxious. The man was fostering a false sense of jovial behavior to hide how he was feeling from us. He was all sharp lines trying to be relaxed. The woman was keeping him tethered to the land, lest he bobble through the air like a gull lost to the winds. Both stood closely together forming a unified wall, with closed off body speak. A body cannot lie even if a mouth can. They are defensive, afraid, worried. There is more happening than either are saying.” 

Brauma spoke without prompt, quick in word and deed. “They lingered with each touch, drawing support from one another. Aamani’s words are true, The blonde woman kept the man anchored with touches to remind him he must be grounded. The two need one another but are in disagreement in how to proceed. Disquiet is brewing amongst these people. The woman was quick to cut him off with her hands, a touch, or a look if she felt he was pushing in the wrong direction. While trust is there, its weakened by unspoken things.” 

“So my touch has spoken.” Rima mused, undeterred by Brauma’s quick addition. “Now, my heart, speak.”

Ophelia frowned somewhat. “Neither of them have a plan, at all. They’re winging it completely. All the observations are pointing to that very obviously.” She nods respectfully to the three other warriors present, “They feel it is our obligation to join them because we too are human. They hope that will be enough to push us into saying yes.” In another life Ophelia would have agreed with that notion whole heartedly. 

“They believe in their cause.” Ophelia still wanted to believe somehow. The conflict in her heart made the woman want to scream at the sky. “But are afraid of falling apart completely, they want more structure, more people on their side, but are certain they cannot win without us. 

Their leadership is breaking down due to severe losses and need a win, even if it is just adding us to their ranks.” She toyed with her spear idly. “Their forces are formidable when given enough motivation, but their leaders are weakening and causing cracks to form in the idealism that began their rebellion. It could go either way now.” 

Rima gave a thoughtful sound at that, “Thank you, all of you. I will contemplate this further.” She motioned the women to follow her back to camp. 

\--- 

Ophelia exhaled lowly, eyes fluttering shut as fingers list through her hair. With the fall of night came the comfort and privacy of their tent. Rima was the steady comforting presence now, bringing Ophelia down from the rest of the day. 

“Are you still considering their offer?” Ophelia questions after a moment, eyes half closed at the feeling of Rima coaxing her fingers through the short dark brown strands. 

Ophelia just squirmed closer to snuggle against Rima. She still needed to wash her make up off, but… she was so comfortable. “Or should I not ask since its chief business?” 

“I am not in my chiefly attire, so you may ask.” Rima stated with a low amused sound. “I am still debating to some extent. It is not Zaulia business, that much is obvious. I try to stay out of non Zaulia business.” The tribe was closed off to outsiders for a variety of reasons. 

“I feel like there is a but in the air…” Ophelia prompted, her eyes finally falling closed. 

“To some regard, I know with the gates have been thrown open, now demons are actively attacking this side of the continent.” Rima nuzzled into Ophelia’s forehead gently. “If they fall, there is a possibility we could as well.” 

“True enough- the demons will be on a warpath…” Ophelia opened her mouth to speak further before the bell outside of their tent was rung thrice rapidly. Both women jerked up from their comfortable lounge in bed. Rima was up before Ophelia was, throwing the tent flap open. 

A wild eyed zaulia warrior clutched onto her spear. Black blood splattered against her bare skin, her makeup smudged wildly. The call horn hung from her hip. “My queen! The Doom!” 

Rima snarled, “The sea?! It can’t be uncapped?” She shook her head, knowing now wasn’t the time to ponder details. “Rally the troops! Quickly! Formation 8.” 

“Of course.” The woman fumbled with the horn, blowing loudly into it. Rima snapped back into the tent grabbing her gear, quick to change regardless of anyone seeing it. Ophelia was already on her feet, yanking on her own gear. Makeup was cast aside in favor of quickness. 

Rima only glanced up from what she was doing to speak directly to Ophelia now. “I ask of you a great favor, make sure Ironheade warriors stay out of our way.” The short haired woman let her discomfort and surprise roll away to simply nod. They didn’t need to discuss it any further than that. 

Ophelia grabbed Rima’s spear from the holster on the tent wall, chucking it at her wife, “Go!” 

Rima needed no further encouragement to run out of the tent. The camp was soon alive with chaos of people, metal beasts and the undead lurching. 

Ophelia hated to leave, but knew what her duty was. She grabbed her own weapons before taking off into the night. She found her metal beast easily enough, taking the drowsy cat from her pen. The low clicking noise from the back of her throat hurried the beast along. 

It hurt her heart to run from her home in peril, but Rima needed her to keep things orderly. If Ironheade tried to help and got caught in the crossfire that would only cause more problems. 

The fires of Ironheade’s campfire were easy enough to pick out in the darkness of the jungle. It lead her across the bridge in the darkness. The the lurching dead was equally easy to see once she crossed over, the doom were attacking the tour bus. Ironheade was in chaos just as much as the Zaulia. Ophelia could pick out headbangers trying to mosh around men with shovels. Razor Girls shot at walking heads, as bassists struggled to heal their friends. Eddie and Lita were back to back, swarmed by the dead. 

Ophelia swore, speeding up her run as she switched from her spear to her swords. The familiar grip felt better in her hand as she cut her way through the undead with blade and fire. 

The sudden burst of heat and light caught Ironheade’s attention to some regard, it certainly caught the ire of the undead. The horde nearest to her turned to attack, only to be consumed by the fire bursting forth from her beast. 

“Hell yeah! Fiiiireee!” 

“Thank Ormagoden’s tusks, some help.” 

“Haha, buurrrn!” 

The cheering made Ophelia wince, they would and could turn on her so easily- the thought is dropped in favor of burning the next undead. Battle comes first. Her own emotional fuckery was going to have to come second, especially given the undead were starting to lose interest in Ironheade. A good portion were coming towards her now. Ophelia swung her blade to try and discourage any grabby undead hands trying to pull her down off of her perch.

Freed from direct attack, the headbangers regrouped with Eddie on hand- they moved forward to cover her side, knocking people aside. Lita directed the bassists with quick sharp commands, Razor Girls rallied around the healers, taking shots. Roadies crept up around the healers and Razor Girls keeping the undead back. They were regrouping, regaining ground and lessening the horde. 

Ophelia tightened her grip on the hilt of her blade, swinging again sending an undead man’s head flying. 

“Haha, fuckin’ sweet!” 

Eddie’s voice cheering her on felt like he was twisting the knife in her gut. Ophelia made sure her expression was as blank as she could make it as she cut another undead man down, then another, and another. The black blood was staining her skin, her blade- she couldn’t care about it now. 

She focuses on fighting, beheading more of the undead as she goes. Falling into the rhythm of battle, only the thumping of her own heartbeat in her ears. She’s trying not to focus on who she’s been battling with. 

The sound of the horn in the distance only stilled Ophelia’s furious swipes. She turned back to glance over her shoulder, able to pick up its meaning. The battle back at camp is ceasing now. 

She pulls her beast back, her gaze sweeping across the landscape before her. The hordes had been cut down immensely with only a few causalities amongst Ironheade. Ophelia wordlessly turns her beast around, heading back across the bridge. Ophelia relaxed as she started to put distance between herself and Ironheade. 

“Hey, wait!” The brunette woman winced openly now. She glanced back seeing Eddie of all people calling out to her.

Eddie jogged after her, barely catching up. “Hey! I don’t know your name, but, thanks.” 

Ophelia didn’t reply, refusing to make eye contact, hurrying her beast as she gave a sharp nod. The metal beast went from an amble to hurrying forward across the bridge leaving Eddie behind. Ophelia refused to look behind herself, instead focusing forward trying to calm her heart. 

He still had no idea who she was. Maybe that was for the better?


	3. To the names of our wounds

The next day is spent sweeping the landscape for any lingering undead. The Zaulia fall into what Ophelia knows is formation twenty-five. A formation they haven’t touched in decades apparently given the rustiness of it all to younger Zaulia. Rima’s stern encouragement and sharp words from older members of the tribe is enough to make the shakiness disappear. 

She is one of many picking through the foliage, pulling apart everything she can to find the source of what caused the undead to lurch from the sea. Ironheade is still kept at bay at the bridge, disallowed from coming any further into Zaulia territory. 

Not that Ophelia is spared Eddie’s presence. She hears of him more than she likes. Other Zaulia are talking amongst themselves. All talk is soft spoken, easy to lose in the rustle of leaves and purr of a metal beast, but it is still there. All of it leaves Ophelia feeling disquieted and angry. 

Rima hasn’t given an official ruling as of yet, but Zaulia warriors seem to be warming to the idea of added help. The only relief in it all is the lack of suspicion on her. Ophelia could only guess if she was with Ironheade still all of this would be somehow her fault. It was always somehow her fault. Always somehow a mistake she made. The thought leaves a bitter sting in the back of her mouth.

The sound of a horn being blared in the distance once is enough to draw Ophelia from her search back to the heart of camp. Rima stands tall in the meeting tent. Ophelia can tell her partner is tired, but it’s unlikely anyone else can really see it. 

“Greetings my warriors.” Rima raises her staff high, earning low tired murmuring from the Zaulia gathered around her. “I know this has been a long night, but, we shall rest soon enough.” She looks to her warriors before she continues, “We shall take shifts on sweeping for any remaining Tear Drinkers within these lands. Those who’ve returned shall rest, whilst those who’ve been here shall go out. If you are unsure of where you are to go, speak to me.”  
She claps her hands once signifying the meeting has ended. Those who arrived back at camp lurch to makeshift tents thrown up after some homes were torn asunder the night before. Ophelia makes a point to approach Rima to steal a quick kiss. The quick bout of affection earns a tired kind of smile from the other woman.

“Rest.” Rima commands simply, gently motioning Ophelia to head back to their tent. “We have much to speak of later.” 

The brunette frowns slightly, but nods. “Right.” She tucks a loose strand of her choppy hair behind her ear, “Get some rest too, Rima.” 

“I will, soon enough.” With that Rima turned back towards others approaching her. Ophelia exhales as she walks away back towards her and Rima’s tent to get some semblance of rest. It doesn’t take her long to change into her sleeping shift and settle down. 

\--- 

_The spear feels almost wrong in her hand. She aches for the familiarity of the hilt of her blades. Her palms are sweaty, which make her grasp looser than she’d like. She knows her hands are only going to get sweatier with each opponent that she faces off against. None offer her leeway in this battle, not when it is her Rites. The only way she can prove her worth as a Zaulia._

_The Final Rites Of The Zaulia is something she intends to win._

_Ophelia can feel the heavy gaze of the Zaulia Queen from above. Rima watches the fight from her throne over the arena. Ophelia can equally feel the gaze of other Zaulia perched in the greenery nearby watching. The arena is quiet beyond the natural sounds of the jungle and exertion of a fight._

_The pressure of everything leaves her heart pounding so loudly she feels like she’ll lose focus._

_Ophelia defends herself against each Zaulia warrior charging at her. She disarms the next woman to jump from the bushes at her, before blocking the next blow from a woman dropping down from a tree._

_Once disarmed both women disappear back into the underbrush. Only for another to appear. It makes keeping track of anyone harder than she’d like._

_The brunette woman shoves the half naked woman back with a hiss. She kicks out her opponent, sending the Zaulia stumbling into her fellow warrior. The two tumble into the bushes. The tussle of them trying to right themselves makes the foliage shake and shiver before it stops as suddenly as it started. Zaulia disappear as they always do._

_Ophelia barely gets a moment to breathe before she nearly loses hold of her own weapon as another Zaulia seemingly slides out of seemingly nowhere._

_Ophelia recognizes this woman. A Zaulia warrior of the highest rank, someone dangerous. Someone who is meant to make her fail._

_She stumbles back, nearly losing her footing. Ophelia manages to stifle a few choice swears as she quickly regains her balance._

_She digs her heels into the dirt with a snarl, shoving the other woman back. The blunt end of her spear connects with the Zaulia’s cheek. The force behind the swing is enough to do damage._

_Blood splatters against the dirt under foot. The injured Zaulia hits the ground hard, but springs back up. She’s like a metal beast coiled and ready to spring on prey._

_The two trade blows, drawing blood with each strike. Ophelia feints back, pretending to back off. That is enough for the larger woman to charge at her. The brunette takes the opening to weave around the other woman, swinging her spear upwards to try and disarm the Zaulia._

_Ophelia knocks the spear out of the other woman’s hand with a fluid motion. The wooden spear clatters against stone and dirt. It rolls just out of grasp of the warrior who stands ready to still fight. Ophelia finds herself just as quick to go on the offensive. She swings outwards with a roar she didn’t know was settled in the back of her throat. The two fight tooth and nail before Ophelia finally knocks the other woman down. She swings her spear down, pointing it at the other woman’s throat._

_Rima taps her spear against the ground signifying the end of the fight, clapping her hands. She opens her mouth to speak. Ophelia can taste blood on her teeth and the sound of her heartbeat fills her head._

\--- 

The feeling of lips pressing against the top of her head is what rouses Ophelia from sleep initially. “My dear.” Rima’s voice is low and sweet. 

Her kisses continue as Ophelia awakens slowly. Ophelia yawns softly, blinking her eyes open. The Zaulia Queen is smiling at her warmly. 

“Rima-?” She starts to sit up a little, laughing softly as Rima pushed her back into the bed. Rima speaks quickly, amused as well. “Don’t move, I wish to join you.” The Zaulia queen has shed her armor and weaponry, wearing a thin sleep garment as she settles down next to Ophelia. 

“Mhmm.” Ophelia finds herself relaxing now, curling an arm around Rima. The two women cuddle together contentedly. In their tent, in each other's arms, Ophelia can let herself really relax. 

Only a few hours later do either bother rising. Rima untangles herself from the bed to stretch, changing into her gear. Like any Zaulia worth her salt, she could dress quickly and efficiently. 

“It’s time already?” Ophelia questioned tiredly, sitting up slowly. 

“Sadly, it is. We still have much to do.” Rima picks up her headdress, dusting it off before setting it atop her head. “I still have a decision to make.” 

Ophelia stills at that, “Right.” The comfort of sleep is already wearing off as she realizes what lay before them. 

“To be frank, I think, I have already made it.” Rima states quietly, “I don't think it will make you happy.” 

Ophelia’s hands tighten into fists at her knees. “You- you’re going to say yes aren’t you?” 

“The doom’s resurgence has pushed our hand.” The Queen of The Zaulia states as she turns to face her wife. “We can fend off the doom ourselves, but... with the demons out there as well. It has become harder to justify turning away Ironheade.” 

“We can’t be spread too thin.” Ophelia exhales, hands relaxing from a fist in her lap now. Some part of her wants to be petulant and petty. She wants to tell Ironheade to leave, to never come back, to disappear into the disaster they’ve unleashed on what’s left of Bladehenge. 

The Zaulia part of her, knows pettiness doesn’t help. She isn’t Lita Halford. She can’t let her own wants out-weigh what the Zaulia need. She finally looks back up at up at Rima. 

There are a million things Rima wants to say, Ophelia can see that much in her partner’s face. “Do what we have to do.” Ophelia says firmly, wishing there was a better way, but there isn’t. 

Rima simply smiles at her and turns away. 

Ophelia stays in their tent until there is a blast of a horn being blown. She rises, getting dressed as she tries to breathe. She wipes at her eyes, trying to be the Zaulia she knows she truly is.

Why couldn’t Eddie Riggs leave her alone? Why did he ruin everything he touched? 

"I hate you, Eddie Riggs." She hisses softly, sucking in a breath between her teeth. Maybe just this once she'll miss a meeting. The fact she can't stop crying is a good enough reason if any. 

Rima comes back later, merely stepping into the tent and wrapping her arms around Ophelia wordlessly. The brunette clings to her wife, crying into Rima's shoulder. The Zaulia Queen quietly just pets her hair.


End file.
